


Lap Dance

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Semi-NSFW Meme ficlets [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Johannes cannot write dancing, Lapdance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Semi-NSFW meme — send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a ficlet about one giving a lap dance" for Enjolras and Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lap Dance

Once upon a time, Grantaire might have told you that the best thing to be doing in the world is being slightly tipsy with a paintbrush in your hand and an easel in front of you when you’re on the banks of the Seine, and the sun is shining and tourists keep asking stupid questions you keep giving stupid answers to because you’re Parisian and they’re tourists.

These days, he would tell you the exact same thing. However, once upon a time he would have told you the  _second_  best thing is to listen to Enjolras speak at the Musain. These days, that is not strictly true.

It still involves Enjolras, of course, but now, he’d tell you the best feeling is the world is Enjolras giving you a lapdance. Which, in his view, is  _completely_  true.

Grantaire’s head is tipped back, and he is breathless - he can never breathe when Enjolras does this, not properly. It’s like his lungs contract, sacrificing Grantaire’s good respiration for the beautiful, wonderful blessing that is Enjolras moving his body like that.

It’s slow, terrifically slow, and it’s only at times like these that Grantaire keeps in mind that Enjolras is a ballet dancer and that Enjolras can poledance as well as Courfeyrac can, and Grantaire stares at Enjolras’ arse as he leans down, grinding it against Grantaire’s crotch.

Grantaire lets out a pathetic little noise that is lost under music, and couldn’t wrench his eyes away if he wanted to. Enjolras’ body is music in itself, and he writhes, gyrates, slides his body against Grantaire’s in a way that makes Grantaire feel like he might  _die._

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asks with concern when the music stops, and he looks at Grantaire innocently, as if he hadn’t just given Grantaire a lap dance, as if Grantaire isn’t  _this close_  to having a nosebleed.

Grantaire lets out a garbled sound, but Enjolras understands just fine, and beams down at Grantaire, an angel from above.

A terrible, terrible, awfully sexy angel. “Bed?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire nods dazedly, trying to remember his words. 

Yes.  _Bed._


End file.
